Mistletoe & Kisses Read online

  Besides, I had my knight in leather armor.

  He also happened to be the man of my dreams, and we were going to enjoy a wonderful evening alone together. I could hardly wait.

  Chapter Ten

  IT WAS BEFORE seven when we arrived at the restaurant, but because it was winter, it was dark out. The sky was lighter than usual, though, and I knew that was signaling more snow. It made me wonder if we’d be able to head home the next day according to schedule or if the weather would delay our trip.

  My legs weren’t as cold as I’d thought they would have been, but that was because Brad had kept his promise. I only felt the cool air on them for a few minutes passing from building to car and car to building. We walked inside the toasty restaurant and it didn’t take me long to see that this was probably the most popular place in the whole town. It was packed, and there were even a few people waiting for a table in front of us.

  We stood patiently as the hostess helped the folks before us. Brad squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear. “Thanks for wearing the skirt.”

  I grinned. “You better make it worth my while later.”

  “Oh, I will.” The kids had slept in the same bed with us the night before. I’d made a big deal of us sleeping on Barb’s hideaway couch in the living room next to the Christmas tree. We kept the tree lights on all night and the kids loved watching them while Brad and I took turns telling stories.

  Tonight, though, the kids were going to sleep with Gramma. I hoped we weren’t spoiling them too much on this vacation. I’d find out for certain if they were demanding hellions when we got home. I smiled, thinking about how much those babies meant to me. I was a lucky woman, and I squeezed Brad’s hand back.

  I was going to have to tell him my Gracie theory once we sat down.

  The hostess was ready for us, and we approached her. Brad told her we needed a table for two and she looked down at her chart. I started looking around again, and I could feel the cool breeze coming from the door as more people walked in. I glanced back that way and saw eight or nine people behind us. I hoped that meant that the restaurant served food quickly.

  As I began turning back to the hostess, I thought my gaze passed a pair of eyes I recognized. But before I could register who it was, I realized Brad was asking me a question and I looked at him. “What?”

  “Do you want to wait in the bar or over here?”

  I took a deep breath. “Um, how long will the wait be?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  Longer than that and I might have contemplated another restaurant, but ten minutes was no big deal. I shrugged and then said, “How about the bar?” I didn’t want my teeth chattering thanks to the cool air constantly rushing through the door.

  “Right this way.”

  We started following her, but first I glanced back. I wanted to see the face again. I knew my eyes had spied a friend…or at least someone who reminded me of a friend, and I wanted to put a name to the face.

  Too late, though. The guy was gone—either he went back outside or was a figment of my imagination to begin with.

  Brad and I sat at the bar where the hostess left us, along with a black box that would buzz us when our table was ready. Brad ordered two glasses of red wine and I took a sip before I broached the subject I really needed to address with him. I cleared my throat and leaned in closer. It wasn’t quiet in there and someone would have had to try hard to overhear me, but I still didn’t want to broadcast my conversation. “Honey, have you ever considered that we might actually know the stalker?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. What if it’s someone we already know…and trust?”

  “Yeah, I got that. But do you realize what you’re saying?”

  “I do.” I took a sip of wine. “Unfortunately, that idea didn’t just occur to me out of the blue.” He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. I took another deep breath and then just blurted it out. “I’m pretty sure Gracie’s my stalker.”

  Brad had a look of shock for a few seconds, and then he started laughing. “You think Gracie is your stalker?”

  “I didn’t say it made sense, and I don’t know why, Brad, but yes. All the signs point to her.” He stifled his guffaws, because he knew I was serious. I only called him by his first name instead of a term of endearment when I wanted him to pay attention or when I was getting irritated, and so he knew I was serious. Once his smile faded, I started first by telling him about the day in Beaver Creek when I’d taken a walk with Chuck and how Gracie had called just when I happened to get a supposed text from my stalker. I explained to Brad that that was what made me suspicious but then, after that, all the pieces just fell into place—and they fit.

  When I was done explaining my case, Brad said, “I dunno, honey. It’s circumstantial. It’d never hold up in court.”

  “No, not yet. I know. We need hard evidence. And that’s why I’m telling you. I need you to help me find it.” He frowned, still not feeling convinced. Our black box buzzed and a red LED light on it blinked, alerting us to the fact that our table was ready. I took the last sip of my wine and slid off the stool, grabbing my coat and purse. Brad took my hand and we walked back toward the hostess area.

  She smiled, recognizing us. “Let me show you to your table.”

  “Actually, could you point out the ladies’ room to me?” I looked at Brad. “I’ll be there in just a sec.”

  The hostess nodded and pointed me toward the left-hand side of the cavernous restaurant, way past the bar area, and I saw the sign above the doorway. The hostess gave me a general idea of where she’d be seating Brad but also mentioned that she’d be happy to show me there when I returned from the restroom. I handed my coat to Brad and headed over to the restrooms.

  After using the facilities, I washed my hands and then walked into the hallway from the ladies’ room. I looked to the left and saw that it led to other rooms in the restaurant—likely supply rooms, or even an office, and another entrance to the kitchen, so, reoriented, I turned to the right so I could walk back into the restaurant.

  As I took a step, though, I noticed a large body in front of me suddenly in my way. I looked up and saw those eyes again—those steely blue eyes of a friend. My mind registered who he was and I got ready to say something—a surprised greeting—when he slapped his hand over my mouth and shoved me through a door.

  It all happened way too fast. Before I could even figure out what was going on, my brain focused on the pain I felt in my arm. His thick fingers were twisting into the delicate flesh next to my underarm, and I knew it was going to bruise. I wanted to shout, but his other hand was still clamped over my mouth. I wasn’t struggling—yet. I was still too disoriented.

  I began focusing past the pain. Okay, we were in the men’s restroom now and it didn’t take long for a chill to settle in my muscles. This guy, a man we’d always affectionately called Rockstar Balboa, was my stalker. I don’t know how I knew at that moment—I just did.

  Rockstar, a guy whose real name was Kenny, had been a roadie for Fully Automatic for the past several years. He’d been one of their most trusted guys, had been hired on when Ethan and I were still married. So what the hell was he doing this for?

  I wanted to ask, but my mouth was still forced shut by his big hand. Did he see the question in my eyes? “Yeah, Val. You’ve flirted with me for years, but I’m not the big bad rock star. I’m not the guy you sing about. And why? Don’t you remember all those times I got you coffee when you were on the road? When I kept you company when the guys had meet and greets and shit like that? Jesus. I thought when you dumped Ethan—finally, ‘cause the cheating bastard didn’t deserve you—I thought you’d see the light. But you just completely ignore me.”

  Wait. What? Had I managed to completely miss the fact that this guy had had a thing for me all these years? My mind reached back. Sure, I remembered him being a little over-attentive on occasion. One time I was sitting backstage with the guys hours before a show started.
The initial sound check was done and everyone was just kicking back. It was right before I got pregnant with Chris, the last tour I went on when Ethan and I were still together. It had hurt too much to be with them, because I missed the stage, but I felt like I was being a shitty wife, not going along and supporting him. Well, on that particular day, Ethan was fucking around with his guitar when Kenny had just walked up behind me and started massaging my shoulders. I’d been nervous, because all those feelings had welled up inside me—the gnawing ache of not being able to take my rightful place behind the mike, the coldness from Ethan (although our nights had been particularly hot that summer), and I could sense some tension amongst the guys, although I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Kenny, though, was the only one who’d paid me any attention, had noticed that inside I was suffering, and he’d given me a killer backrub. If he hadn’t done it right in front of everyone else, I might have asked him not to, because it felt partly inappropriate, but he’d just barely started when Ethan appeared and said, “Don’t expect me to start payin’ ya as a masseuse too, Rockstar.” Kenny had chuckled and then cupped the back of my neck in his large hand and helped me relax.

  But I could see now how that had been the first of a long line of mistakes with this guy. Oh, don’t get me wrong. His vibes were a little too friendly and touchy after that, and I had to draw a line. I just figured the guy needed to get laid. I didn’t stop to think that maybe the guy figured that, hey, Ethan fucked around on Val, so why couldn’t Val do the same? I just knew that he felt creepy on occasion but he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, so I just tried to firmly ask him to back off.

  Looking back, though, I could see that he’d never quite gotten the message…and now I was paying for that.

  In light of recent events, when thinking that there might be someone watching my every move, I’d never considered him. Nope, I hadn’t considered anyone really, not till recently, and then I’d thought it was Gracie. Oh, how stupid had I been!

  Having convinced myself it was my children’s caretaker, I’d blinded myself to the possibility that someone else was behind it, and now I was in a situation that I feared would have a very unpleasant outcome.

  Had he maybe stepped up his game because he was not part of my road crew?

  Could that be the way I could save myself?

  Somehow I knew that doing what I wanted to wouldn’t be the best course of action. I wanted to fight, to scream, to run, but deep down I knew that would be a bad idea. I raised my eyebrows, and somehow he got the message that I wanted to talk. His voice was low as he pressed his forehead to mine. “You scream once, it’s all over. You got it?”

  Did I look as scared as I felt? Was it a bad idea to show that fear? Like I could help it. I simply nodded, waiting for him to remove his hand. Then I took a deep breath before trying to plead my case. “Kenny, what is it you want from me? Do you want to go on the road with me?” I got the feeling he wanted to tie me up to his bed permanently, eventually performing some sort of taxidermy experiment on me, but I wasn’t going to offer anything remotely sexual or loving. I just needed something to distract him, help him drop his guard enough that I could get the fuck out of there.

  He blinked twice. “You think I’m stupid, Val? Why didn’t you make me that offer six months ago?”

  As much as I wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear in hopes of getting out of there alive, I also wanted to be honest. “Look, Kenny, I had nothing to do with the hiring of my road crew. You know that, don’t you?”

  He voice grew colder. “Okay, sure, but you couldn’t put in a good word for me? You didn’t care about me enough to make sure I was part of your crew to begin with? Oh, yeah, I can be your willing slave when you’re chasing your husbands all over the country, but when it’s your own thing, you didn’t give me a second thought.”

  Fear gripped my throat and constricted it. I felt like I couldn’t even talk but I managed to get out a few words anyway. “I guess I didn’t think about it.”

  As though the way my throat felt wasn’t enough, he wrapped a hand around my neck. It was almost as if he could sense my vulnerabilities. “You should have thought about it sooner.” He brought his face close to mine, so close that my eyes could only focus on close-up details. I tried to swallow but my throat muscles couldn’t work against his steely fingers.

  I had to do something or I was going to wind up dead—that much I knew. I could feel it coming off him. Maybe I could flatter him, make him feel better somehow. His fingers began to tighten their grip when I said, “You look different, Kenny.”

  His eyes narrowed and when he spoke, I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t seen you in a while. You—you look like you’ve been working out.” I was exaggerating, but he didn’t need to know that. He did look like he’d toned up some, maybe lost a few pounds, but I knew flattery might throw him off guard.

  He actually smiled and his eyes relaxed. “You can tell?”

  I didn’t want to seem overly eager and fake, so I just said, “Yeah.”

  He smiled and nodded and, even though his hand was still wrapped around my neck, I felt his fingers loosen their grip. That helped me to focus on the possibility that all was not yet lost. I tried to formulate a plan, but I didn’t know how I could get away from him without incurring serious injury.

  Just as my mind started grappling with how to get his hand off my neck while pulling away from him, the door to the bathroom opened. It was then that I realized Kenny hadn’t even thought to secure the door or drag me into a stall. That was how obsessed and overcome he’d been—his only thought had been trapping me so he could grill me. He hadn’t gone much further in formulating a plan.

  And that was his downfall, not anything I could have done.

  The person entering the bathroom was none other than my husband. Kenny was like a doe in headlights. It was as though his plan collapsed around him and he hadn’t formulated a backup, so that was it. He was done. Brad wasn’t a fighter but it didn’t matter. I’d never seen him look before like he did right at that moment. Suddenly, he looked taller, more muscular, and fierce.

  He was scary.

  “Let her go right now, motherfucker, or you’re gonna wish you’d never met me.”

  Unfortunately, just because Brad looked scary to me didn’t mean Kenny was just going to give up. No, instead, he and Brad wrestled a little until the door opened again. At that point, Kenny lifted a leg and kneed Brad so my husband stumbled back. Then Kenny pulled the guy in the doorway all the way into the room, giving Kenny an opportunity to run out. Brad winced and then stood. “You okay?” I nodded. “Call the cops,” he said and ran out the door.

  I wanted to beg him not to go but he was already gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  I REALIZED MY purse was still hanging off my shoulder, and I began fumbling in it, trying to find my phone. The man who’d just walked in and got shoved aside said, “I guess I should help catch that guy.” I didn’t say anything, because I was thinking I should as well, but I knew Brad would be pissed if I tried to do anything. “I’m pretty sure that guy had a knife.” The guy left the bathroom, and then I knew I would have to do what I could.

  I was right on his heels. The restaurant was big and crowded, but I was still able to spot Brad grabbing Kenny from behind just as the former roadie reached the front doors. Kenny was more doughy than he was muscular (even though I had noticed he’d been trying to slim up of late), and so Brad was able to slow him down when he clutched his shirt. While they struggled, the good Samaritan was able to catch up and try to help.

  I’d frozen for a moment taking in the scene but I managed to begin moving again. As I got closer, though, a crowd started to form and I didn’t think they knew exactly what was happening. Fortunately, I managed to find the hostess, because she was at the edge of the crowd, and I told her that I’d had a stalker and that guy had just tried to hurt me and was now trying to harm my husband b
efore escaping. She nodded and ran off, I hoped so she could call the authorities.

  The crowd was so loud and thick that I couldn’t get through, but I did hear murmurs about blood. I knew a few people were trying to help, but most of these people were snoopy onlookers, and it reminded me of one time when I was a freshman in high school. There were two boys behind the school building squaring off and sizing each other up. A crowd began to amass and encouraged their machismo until they began swinging at one another. It was then that I realized how much I hated mob mentality (even though, at the time, I didn’t know that was what it was called) and how they fed off of high emotion and spectacle. I felt like I was witnessing it again.

  That was my husband in there, for Christ’s sake, and I needed to know if he was all right.

  A big guy was shoving his way through the crowd, and I saw him finally flash a badge. He must have been an off duty cop, but he planned on doing his job just the same. The crowd loosened their tight circle and let him through, but I still couldn’t see a thing, and I was getting worried.

  The stranger from the bathroom who’d decided last second to help was trying to restrain Kenny near the door with Brad’s help, and both were failing miserably. The cop managed to get them all up, but he acted like he was going to cuff the helpful stranger. Two people kept getting in my way and I tried to shove my way through. By the time I managed to get closer, I saw the cop holding Kenny, but then I saw Brad, and there was blood on his white shirt.

  Lots.

  That was it. I forced my way through the rest of the people then so I could talk to my husband and check on him. The cop was on high alert, though, and acted like he was going to restrain me…until Brad put out his arms in a welcoming gesture.